


Bat Sex Pollen Neutralizer

by ChocolateTeapots



Category: DCU
Genre: Batman being ridiculous, Cuddle Pollen, GL being done with this bat nonsense, Sex Pollen, except the PG variety, pure silliness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:06:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26688625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocolateTeapots/pseuds/ChocolateTeapots
Summary: Batman tries to combat a known threat.  It doesn’t go according to plan.
Relationships: Hal Jordan & Bruce Wayne
Comments: 14
Kudos: 49





	Bat Sex Pollen Neutralizer

**Author's Note:**

> Fill for the following [prompt](https://dckinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/1454.html?thread=2394798) from the [DC Kink Meme](https://dckinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/1454.html). Because kink meme crack fills are kind of of my favorite things.
> 
> "It's not sex pollen, it's not mind control... it's CUDDLE POLLEN.
> 
> Preferably Bruce and someone he's not on the best terms with - like Hal or Ollie or Jason."
> 
> Also, I took some cues from [The Sex Pollen, Aphrodisiacs, Etcetera Pre-Negotiated Consent Form](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24810370) by [sirenseven](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sirenseven/pseuds/sirenseven) from the same meme, which is amazing and hilarious and you should absolutely read it. This is just my addition to the DC Kinkmeme Responsible Sex Pollen Expanded Universe.

“So, prepared for everything, huh?” Hal Jordan mocks from where he’s plastered to Bruce’s side. “What the hell were you worried about when you made this? A Care Bear Stare?”

“I thought your ring filtered out harmful particles,” Bruce spits back at him as he nuzzles his face further into Jordan’s hair. He is at once glad than Jordan’s vanity requires attentive shampooing and irritated that the familiar scent suggests Jordan pilfered said shampoo from Wayne Manor. Shifting his weight to get himself on his feet and out of this situation only causes the two of them to sink further into the giant green beanbag Kilowog Jordan had created for who knows what reason.

“God, you’re such an asshole.” Jordan says, arms tightening around Bruce’s waist. “You can’t even, just this once, admit you fucked up? Because we both know you wouldn’t be in this position on purpose.”

It would be way easier to just write off Jordan if he didn’t, occasionally, hit things right on the nose.

And speaking of nose, Jordan’s has made itself at home between the armored plates over his sternum, and Bruce is fighting a losing battle to keep himself from hooking his chin over the Lantern’s head. The stiff neck of his cowl is working in his favor and is the only thing allowing him some semblance of dignity.

Bruce had been having a quiet night of experimentation in the Watchtower laboratory. He’d been trying to find an agent - preferably, one that could be aerosolized into an appropriate bat themed canister - that could neutralize the less… savory effects of what the louder League members had dubbed “sex pollen.” It was purely a tactical exercise, and in no way influenced by certain Leaguers for whom he’d agreed to “help” if necessary, for the sake of the mission, of course. Were it strictly up to Bruce, he would have invalidated any entries in which his name was surrounded by little hearts, but the Watchtower’s system was not nearly as discerning, and the potential ramifications of creating an AI canny enough to do so were, frankly, intimidating.

This righteous endeavor had, however, been rudely interrupted by Jordan bursting into the room with unnecessary exuberance. If asked, Bruce would be clear that he had not crushed the beaker holding the toxin in a gauntleted fist. And that this reaction had not, in fact, been caused by the sound of the Lantern’s voice setting off his own visceral urge to punch something.

At the first sign of the unknown gas, the Watchtower’s defense systems had acted as designed, venting the remaining toxin into space and sparing the two of them from more than a minor dose. But while Bruce had successfully neutralized the pollen’s most emblematic feature, he can’t say he’s satisfied with the current situation.

His body curls around Jordan's as his frown deepens. “Was the swarm of bats as you came in the door really necessary?”

“Oh please. If whatever you were doing was so damn sensitive, you should have locked the door!”

The direction of this conversation is getting a little too close to how much this situation is not Bruce’s fault. Luckily, arguments with Jordan are easy to direct. Time to get petty.

Bruce shifted his weight pointedly, ignoring how his legs are moving to intertwine with the Lantern’s. “Your technique could use some work.”

Predictably, Jordan bristled. “Hey, I’m a pro at cuddling. You, on the other hand, could use to watch your pointy elbows.”

“Your undoubtably long list of references doesn’t support your point as much as you might think.”

Jordan snorts and doesn’t even try to sound genuinely affronted, and isn’t that just the death of any authority Bruce could claim. “Wow, rude. Too bad for you that we can’t all go to fancy finishing school to teach us whether to be the big spoon or the little spoon. I should go sell my story to the Gotham City Enquirer; at least then I'd get some compensation for my suffering.”

Bruce keeps his voice monotone, deadpan, for maximum effect. “Do it. It’ll help your reputation.”

This, finally, gets the result he’s been looking for. “Is acting superior a compulsion for you? Well, I’m sorry I’m not performing up to your standards while hopped up on your freaky snuggle drug. Please, feel free to continue picking at every perceived flaw and shortcoming like a giant asshole, you affection starved…”

Bruce tunes him out easily, shifting awkwardly as Jordan continues his tirade. Jordan’s pretty much on top of him at this point, and he’s not a small man. Bruce schools his face, because he’s not going to give Jordan the satisfaction of knowing Bruce’s leg is falling asleep. He’s Batman. He’s trained for years to gain full control over his body, and he’s not letting the fact that his hands are currently stroking - not petting, and certainly not _caressing_ \- Jordan’s curled back deter him from that _fact_.

Why couldn’t he be here with Ray? Then he wouldn’t need to worry about loss of circulation. Barry’s metabolism probably would have burned through the toxin by now, and even if it hadn’t, they could be discussing potential chemical neutralizing agents. Or best of all, Arthur: they could both stare at opposite walls in stony silence until the effects wore off.

Jordan, of course, is still talking, and has been through Bruce's entire extended aside.

_Does strangulation count as cuddling?_ Bruce wonders. _Maybe he can get in an aggressive neck hug in through a loophole? Perhaps a nerve pinch under the guise of tickling?_

“… and are you seriously so terrified of a little affection that you need to dose yourself with mind control gas to give Robin his yearly hug quota?”

That is a good point, actually. Bruce should hug Robin, and Alfred too. Or maybe give them a firm handshake and a pat on the back: no reason to give them reason to fear for his sanity.

Maybe Bruce had been wrong about neutralizing the brain altering properties of the sex pollen if he’s agreeing with Hal Jordan on something.

The one consolation for this whole ordeal is that he can be absolutely certain Jordan won’t be sharing this with anyone.

As if on queue, the lab door whooshes open.

Jordan starts swearing under his breath. Bruce just glares.

Oliver Queen stands in the doorway, for once, speechless.

Queen gets over it quickly. “Well, don’t you two look cozy,” he sing songs as he whips out his phone. “Smile for the camera! I know you'll both want this moment memorialized.”

Lantern is half a second too late with his green hand construct, shouting his betrayal at Queen even as he burrows further into Bruce’s chest. Queen dances out of the way and snaps another picture.

Bruce just stares at the ceiling.

“Aaaand, sent to the entire JLA mailing list.” Queen’s hand pats Bruce’s shoulder. Bruce does his best to ignore how all three of their phones start going berserk, or the numerous footsteps approaching from the hallway. “Don’t worry, Batsy. As you’re always complaining, half of us never look at our messages."


End file.
